#Because he's a class traitor

[emile-hides]

I was watching a Youtube video of all the Cinematic from the new Overwatch Invasion update (cause heaven knows I ain't buying it) and I noticed at the end Ramattra has this like.. Burn? Mark?? On his chest that goes through his cape

So I downloaded Overwatch on my PC to get a look at the Wandering/Traveling Monk skins this scene is using and I noticed..

Traveling and Wandering have a lot of visual differences, most notably in the burn the originally got my attention.

Wandering has been used canonically to show Ramattra's monk days previously, in his origin story and in the Developer commentary, but interestingly the artwork in those videos is lacking that very burn

Overwatch character designers are very good at visual storytelling, especially with Omnics (I could write an essay on what they've done with Zenyatta), so I believe this burn may very well be what became the Last Straw for Ramattra, what pushed him to leave the Shambali, what caused his fall into violence and eventually Talon.

Was he attacked? Or was he attempting to protect someone else? Despite his best efforts to shield them, the shot fired right past him, scorching his metal, cutting through his cape, and taking their life...

I hope we learn more about it.

[nynafterhours]

LEE ANDERSON HAS BEEN FIRED BABY!!!!

[camellcat]

WTFFF I thought thirteen would be my new girl crush love of my life heart eyes wife you-came-after-twelve-you-must-be-better-than-they're-all-saying bbygirl and then I had to sit down and watch as she told a man who (if he were not a murderer, of course) literally every regeneration before her would've LOVED and FULLY SUPPORTED that "the systems aren't the problem. how people use and exploit the system, that's the problem. people like you" </33333 !?!?

[ralseinumberonebiggestsupporter]

small pixelated creatures (au explaination here)

[lesbianralzarek]

disco elysium discourse is like:

i love big fandoms, so im actually 100% down for people joining without playing the game. its great that more de content creators get the attention they deserve! but please dont discourse about nuanced media if you havent interacted with it. ill-informed negativity is neither fun nor helpful. hmu if you want help pirating it :)

(image ID in alt text)

[twinge-of-cosmicangst]

Mother fuckers saying that they hope the submarine never gets found because it serves them right or whatever, when there is literally a 19yo on there who is probably going to have a slow and traumatic death lack empathy just as much as the billionaires they criticise do.

[ziracona]

TLDR at the bottom, as I know this became very long. My apologies.

I would really like to clarify first that I am not arguing with you or attempting to make you like her and am just attempting to explain my stance since you seemed confused about specifically this: as someone who is very solidly for mage rights in the Dragon Age games and also really likes Vivienne, I do think you overestimate how many fans she has? Which is completely understandable as fandom has cooled a little bit in the last few years, which means there’s less discourse posts floating around, but it used to be that if I found Vivienne content it was vitriolic towards her—she has a canonical Ao3 tag labeled “Vivienne (Dragon Age) Is A Bitch” for example.

We’re not prone to criticizing her character on the regular because she already gets a lot of it, on about the same level as Anders (whom I also am very fond of) and most of it has already been said before.

For examples though, her arguments about mages are genuinely infuriating and make little sense.

She is fantastically racist in the game, which is also very frustrating, though to be fair to her, I’m having trouble thinking of a companion who isn’t at some point or another without ability to correct them (Dorian supporting slavery and his “elven harpy” comment towards, Cole’s “Never trust half an elf” comment which is bad regardless of if they were intending it to be about Michel, Solas and Sera’s everything unfortunately, etc. all come to mind.) Maybe Bull, Leliana, or Josie? I can’t remember them being so off the top of my head.

These things do suck and most Vivienne fans (except for a few, but typically fans who support the fantasy Catholic Church aren’t going to be the type of fans who will bother caring about a Black woman—they’ll usually go for Cullen, the white straight man who is anti-mage and who the narrative actually cares about) are very aware of her flaws, but generally we think it was a very stupid idea to have the first Black companion (that they will actually admit to being Black anyway, unlike Isabela who got whitewashed and Morrigan and Cole, who never really have the fact that they are mixed Black acknowledged or shown in the games) support the oppressive system and use her as a mouthpiece for a conservative agenda.

(Using characters as a mouthpiece for whatever agenda the devs are trying to push with little regard to their actual characters is a very common thing in Inqusition—ex. at one point they have Cole say Cullen was a “good Templar who remembered the mages are people” when Cullen literally has a line in 2 saying “Mages aren’t people like you and me.” which is a direct quote from him, and even though Cole should by all rights be terrified by Cullen. Also, all of Varric’s Inquisition characterization.)

I mean, her companion quest is just there to have you distrust her briefly (the quest is named after a classic villain line and the youth potion paper) before “surprising” the player with the the fact that she… has layers? Cares about someone? Which is so… incredibly stupid on the Dev’s parts for a variety of reasons that if I talk about now I will start getting genuinely angry over.

I also think she has some very redeeming qualities. I personally found that she was very compassionate towards an Inquisitor she was friends with. It doesn’t stop her from being opportunistic, but I don’t think that’s a bad thing necessarily. I think this bit specifically is probably something we won’t agree on however, since we have very different readings on these moments, so I’m going keep it at that.

None of this is meant to convince you to like her at all, but I wanted to explain my perspective in doing so since you seemed confused about it.

TLDR: I, and many other pro-mage Vivienne fans, are aware of her flaws, but we think that was a terrible writing decision and do see several redeemable qualities in her character. None of this is meant to sway you in your dislike of her, but I wanted to explain my perspective since you said you didn’t understand how someone could like Vivienne and be pro-mage.

(P.S. I am very sorry if any of this comes off as condescending or if this was completely unwelcome. I’m autistic and have a hard time with tone, both reading it and delivering it. I’m working on it, but I’m still not good at tone over text.)

I. I understand all of this. I’ve criticized the fact they made the first black companion a huge bitch and a bigot against her own kind from the second it became clear that was her personality? But her being the first black companion also doesn’t innately make her a good character. Being a minority doesn’t make what a character does automatically ok or less bad, and idealization is dehumanization as much as villainizing is. It makes BioWare’s writers and their decisions gross, and their agenda gross, any anyone who uses her sucking as an excuse to be racist or disproportionately hateful to only the black companion horrible, but it at the same time doesn’t just…make her good, or ok.

She’s written stupidly, but the character they made is a bigot given no real character growth who tries to ruin the advances for mage rights even if you put forth the best possible outcomes (Lelianna Divine, allied Mages) and befriended Vivienne. She straight sucks. She does. She is a bad, selfish, emotionally manipulative person with no empathy for those of her kind less privileged than her, and a species traitor. (Or whatever? Can’t think of a better thing to categorize Mages as. Class??) It’s not like I only complain about her. I’ve been just as liberal complaining about Doriana and Sera and every other fucked up choice the Devs made. If you’ve seen anything I posted the past week, you’ve probably seen me having a meltdown over how utterly unsalvagable Inquisition is as a game. As for Viv herself, she’s not devoid of good qualities. She’ll be nice if she’s your friend, you’re right, but you have to be kind of terrible to befriend her at all, and so? So is everyone on the planet. That’s what fair weather friends /are/. But beyond that, yeah. She’s not all evil. She cared about the guy she was mistress to. She’s not a monster. But she high key is a terrible person and sucks. You’re right, the devs making her quest a quote from the Queen from Snow White of all things, to encourage a player to lie to her, is fucked up. So is literally everything they did to her. So is how they treated Bull, and Dorian, and Sera, and all kinds of things. But that doesn’t make the character good.

From your own description, you don’t actually like canon Vivienne. You like the HC version you rewrote in your head. And that’s fair, and it’s a fair way to say fuck you to the devs—I do the same with Solas. But you’ll never see me not absolutely accusing the shit out of canon end game Trespasser Solas—he’s a racial supremacist genocide intellectual dude bro, which is a horrific choice for the devs to make esp considering his preTrespasser characterization, but that’s still what he was. I can ignore that and make my HCs, but I’m not going to pretend canon wasn’t what it is. It was. And I wasn’t complaining I see alternate takes on Vivienne, but that I see people talk about Canon Viv like she’s a girlboss while claiming to be pro mage, and those things just concretely do not and cannot go together. And that complaint absolutely stands. It’s cool and even good to hc and rewrite her as a different person. But that’s not canon Viv anymore then, it’s an OC that should have been in the game.

[bijoumikhawal]

I won't lie the jokes about how Dukat was actually calling Garak a homophobic slur when he said "tailor" like that are disquieting for a few reasons

[xhatake]

watching this show has made me realize that my main dnd character [ vaeron moongleam ] is just percy if he was itachi

[hauntingblue]

Finished antigone but needed to read two Wikipedia articles of edipo king and the seven of tebes to understand what's going on. My teacher should have told me about it being book number 3 man

[rafesslxt]

Wrong tie | Mattheo Riddle

summary: y/n noticed a little too late what tie she is wearing.. explains the dirty looks her house gave her

warnings: language, y/n wearing the false tie, flirting, gryffindor!Reader

note: English is not my first language, have fun 🫶🏻

You woke up in a complete haze. You couldn‘t even open your eyes as the sun hit you right in the face through the open curtains.

Damn what time is it? You streched your arms over the other side of the bed and took your alarm clock in your hands. While rubbing your eyes and yawning you took a look at it and shoot up from the bed.

" Fuck fuck fuck!" As fast as you could you got out of bed, seeing that your classes start in 5 minutes.

You had been awake all night long with your boyfriend Mattheo. You sneak in his room at night due to his room alone. Harry borrowed you his invisibility cloak from time to time and every morning before class you would sneek back to your common room.

You put on your clothes and noticed that you don‘t have any books with you but you wouldn‘t get to your class on time if you‘d go back to get them. Then you remembered that you have the first class with your best friends Hermione, Harry and Ron.

You took your cloak and hurried to class, you fold it together and put in your bag. You got into the room, looking at all student, then at your teacher Professor Slughorn. " I‘m sorry Mr. Slughorn, it won‘t happen again." " Oh it‘s alright, dear.. " he looked at you confused for a second. " just sit down and open your books. " he kindly said.

Walking towards the place you shared with your friends you noticed how your house looked at you like you just killed somebody in front of the whole class.

You sat down beside Hermione, who looked at you with wide eyes. Slughorn started the lesson and you whispered " What is it? Do I have something on my face?" She shook her head. " No, uhm.. it‘s more about what‘s under your face." " Huh? "

At the same time some piece of paper landed in front of you. You looked around you and saw Mattheo, smiling devilish at you. You opened the piece of paper and read: " Nice tie baby, let‘s try it on your wrists tonight. - M.R. "

Oh no. You looked down at yourself, eyes wide open as you realised that you took one of your boyfriends tie‘s in a hurry this morning. " Oh my god Hermione, how should I explain this? " " Uhm, you could say that you switched it at the quiddish game in the cabin? "

You turned your head to mattheo seeing him winking at you and biting his lips playfully. Rolling your eyes you still couldn‘t hide your smile.

The things is, beside Mattheo‘s friends and your friends, nobody knew about you two. Both of you wanted to wait a little and just do your thing, without people talking about you all the time. I mean they already did but just because they know you are "friends". Imagine them talking about you If they knew you both were offical dating.

At first Harry was thinking that he used you to come near him and help his father, but he saw the way he looked at you from across the room. Hermione was understanding, even tho she wasn‘t the biggest fan too. But If you‘re happy they are happy. Ron took it badly. He was furious, told you you are a traitor for dating the son of the one who tried to kill them that often, but soon he realised too that you two were madly in love. What did not mean that he wouldn‘t gag sometimes If he heard you kissing in front of them.

A whistle came from the other side of the room. " ey y/n, why don‘t you come sit with us now what you‘re one of us huh?" Draco laughed. You showed him your middle finger and turned back, taking your tie off.

" Damn baby." It slipped right out of Mattheo‘s mouth. Everybody turned around and looked at him. The room went quit and waited for an answer.

" What? Can‘t I think my best friend is hot ? Now turn the fuck back around. " You giggled and shook your head.

What a start for a day.

—

Agaaaain hope ya‘ll like it. It‘s a bit shorter this time bit I‘m on a trip right now so I don‘t have that much time. Thank you for readinggg 🫶🏻

My masterlist 🪄

xoxo sarah

[visenyaism]

feastdance dashboard simulator

💋queen-cersei-defense-squad Follow

it’s so sick that people keep criticizing queen cersei as if she’s not the first female ruler of westeros??? literally elevating bastards and women to her small council is super fucking progressive as is creating the precedent of dismissing unfit kingsguard??

🪨dragonstoner Follow

aren’t all of her children literally bastards born of incest

💋 queen-cersei-defense-squad Follow

oh so now you’re going to listen to stannis baratheon, known misogynist, kinslayer, fornicator, team green supporter, and homophobe, huh.

🦑pykedyke

okay guys i know there’s no “perfect candidate” but you have to vote in the kingsmoot anyways not voting is how someone like e****n g*****y wins and literally anyone is better than him. suck it up and row to the polls

🦈reaveherihardlyknowher

ohhhh not this “vote your crew no matter who” “blue lips man bad” bullshit again. fuck off idgaf which godless man sits the seastone chair i’m not voting for asha shes literally a neoliberal

🦷 lastoftheegiants

first i had to give up my rights and then i had to give up my gods just to not get killed by fucking wights but i literally cannot believe the nights watch made me give up my strap as part of the treasure ransom. shit was expensive it was IVORY. i hate southerners so much i hope the lord commander dies

🌪️kinslayerr

DO NOT COME TO THE RIVERLANDS

🍓silverspurs Follow

why

🌪️kinslayerr

there’s riverlands here

🧜‍♂️theythemderly

freys

🌾maidencool

my cousin got eaten by rats in harrenhal

🐎brackennation Follow

dumb cunts wearing raven feather cloaks strutting around who think they’re better than you but they’re not better than you

🌟sevenstar

i saw a guy get killed and then just stand back up and start fighting again because his friend kissed him on the mouth down here once

🦌whitehart

giant feral pack of 60 wolves running around

🍓silverspurs Follow

ok understandable have a nice day

🫧bastardwaters

i hate the fucking sparrows can we be normal for five minutes or can we just not have shit in the crownlands

☠️real-stormlands-patriot Follow

ITS LORD COMMANDOVER #RIPBOZO

🐦‍⬛mormonts-raven-bot Follow

CORN! DEATH! CORN!

(CAW! I follow members of the Night's Watch to remind them of their oaths!)

🦷 lastoftheegiants

????

🍋floriansjonquil

Loras Tyrell x Queen of Love and Beauty!Reader Imagines

Keep Reading

🪻maidens-smile Follow

girl this is notttttt the time he literally just fucking died at dragonstone?

💎oathkeeper

should’ve stanned jaime #LORASFELLOFF

💐flowerknight

one kill yourself jaime lannister is an honorless kingslaying turncloak two i heard loras tyrell was literally fine?

👊fleabottomtop

lord davos seaworth, the class traitor from the stannis baratheon administration, is a nasty little thottie and just died from making it clap in white harbor

🌅girlheir

this tower fucking sucks.

🌅girlheir

i’m just like rhaenyra targaryen for real

🌅girlheir

🐀ratcook5000 Follow

people meat tastes good asf when you don’t have a wench in your ear saying it violates guest right

🐺threeeyedwolf

🍒ladylance

need that targ girl in mereen to get those lizards over here and liberate this website by any means necessary cause what the fuck is going on

[acey-wacey]

HIHI!!! I LOVED YOUR CHARACTER IS JEALOUS OF TSUM FIC!! (please I'm begging write more, it's too good)

Of course! I'm glad everyone liked them so much :)))

...

Jealous of Their Tsum

Feat Lilia, Rook, Kalim

...

🦇 Lilia Vanrouge 🦇

You're honestly used to Lilia popping out to scare you around campus.

Ever since you'd seen that Lilia had gotten an adorable doppelganger, you knew it would come to find you, just like the seemingly young boy always did.

It wasn't entirely unexpected when a little plushie landed on your head.

You were monetarily startled by the sudden ambush but you soon realized it was Lilia's tsum.

You laughed as the tsum blinked it's little dot eyes at you expectantly.

"You got me so good, Lilia-tsum," you praised the little bean while it hopped into your head and shoulders in glee. "Very scary."

You grabbed the tsum from where it was bouncing on your head and held it to your chest.

"You are just so adorable! I can't handle it!"

The tsum wiggled happily in your grasp and you pressed kisses to it's fabric forehead.

"How come I never get this when I scare you?"

You turned around to find Lilia hovering upside down behind you.

He did that to you so often you weren't even startled anymore.

You just smiled and flicked his forehead, earning a shocked stare from the boyish fae.

"Try being cuter next time."

Lilia frowned and dropped to the ground, landing gracefully on his feet.

"Is this face not cute enough for you?"

Lilia pouted at you with his best sad puppy dog eyes.

You, now immune to Lilia's antics, went right back to pressing smooches to his adorable tsum.

Lilia narrowed his eyes at the smug plush.

"Traitor," he whispered under his breath.

He could've sworn the tsum winked at him.

"If you want some affection, Lilia, you should try asking," you said nonchalantly while nuzzling your face into the tsum's.

Lilia vaguely sensed a trap but he would rather die than lose the object of his affections to a stuffed version of himself.

"Well then, my darling," he batted his eyelashes at you, making you smile. "Please?"

...

🏹 Rook Hunt 🏹

Rook left his tsum alone for 5 seconds and it was already gone.

Of course he couldn't expect anything less.

Curiosity was in his nature so of course his plush doppelganger would run away to explore a new world.

The tsum happily explored the NRC campus pausing often to appreciate the beauty of the unfamiliar world.

However, when you walked by on your way to class, the tsum was immediately entranced by your beauty.

It bounced after you and followed you around with hearts in its eyes.

After a while alone, you had begun to wonder what the strange noise from behind you was.

You turned around only to find an adorable round plushie hopping up and down on the ground.

It looked suspiciously like Rook so you narrowed your eyes at it.

"Have you been following me?"

The tsum squinted its eyes happily.

You laughed and bent down to look closer at the little creature.

"If I tell you to stop, will you?"

The tsum shook its body in what you assume to be a no.

"Just like the real Rook then," you groaned lovingly and unbuttoned the breast pocket of your jacket, opening it to the tsum.

"If you're gonna be here for a while, might as well get comfy, eh?"

The tsum eagerly hopped into your pocket and squirmed around with glee.

"You're actually kinda cute, you know that?"

You said to the tsum with a faint smile, scratching its head with one finger.

The plushie nuzzled into you and you patted it back affectionately.

"I must say, prefect, I am awfully jealous."

You smiled at the familiar sound of Rook's voice and paused, waiting for him to show himself.

You never looked around for him because you knew seeing you startled and frantic was just what he wanted.

Little did you know it was what he loved most about you.

"The great Rook Hunt, jealous of a tiny plushie," you said with a smug smile in your voice. "How low you have fallen."

Rook almost instantly appeared beside you with a sly smile.

"Not nearly as far as I intend to for you, mon chou." Rook clutched his chest dramatically. "But to see your affection passed on to one so similar to me and yet so different, oh, it breaks my fragile heart."

"Then I'm sorry, Rook, but your heart will have to stay broken as long as my adorable little pocket pal is around," you patted the tsum again, earning a joyful bounce.

Rook only sighed in response.

"There may yet be a day when I replace my fiendish friend as the object of your affections but until then, may you know my heart waits for you, my love."

You were frustratingly flustered by the sudden confession.

Rook always said sappy stuff like that but for some reason, it hit different this time.

You didn't say anything until he began to walk away.

"Hey, wait!"

Rook shopped to look over his shoulder at you.

"Come on, Rook," you groaned with a blush dusting your cheeks. You lifted the tsum out of your pocket, much to its dismay, and set it gently on the ground. "You don't get to say something like that and then walk away without kissing me!"

Rook smiled and ran to wrap you in his arms.

"If this is my reward, I should get jealous more often."

...

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim and his tsum are inseparable, much to Jamil's chagrin.

It's hard to find one without the other especially when it comes to you.

Both Kalims flock to you as soon as they see you.

On one notable occasion, Kalim-tsum was a bit faster to bounce after you.

The plush launched into your arms, causing you to drop the notebooks you were holding.

You scowled lightheartedly at the adorable tsum in your arms.

"I don't suppose you're going to help me clean this up?"

You raised an eyebrow at the tsum but it just cocked its head at you.

You sighed and set the tsum onto your shoulder as you bent down to pick up your books.

"It seems every version of Kalim is determined to cause me trouble," you sighed, booping the little critter on the nose.

It wiggled its little button nose and hopped backwards on what you assumed was a sneeze.

You laughed and took the plushie back into your hands, tucking your books under your arm.

"I can't stay mad at you, you're too cute!"

You looked at the tsum helplessly susceptible to its charms.

"Hi, Y/N!"

You looked up to see Kalim running toward you.

He saw the tsum in your arms and beamed at you.

"I see you found my doppelganger! Pretty cool, right?"

"Yeah, he's pretty adorable," you cooed as you pinched the little things cheeks.

Kalim pouted and set his head on your hands right next to where you were holding his tsum.

"Why does he get to be adorable and not me?"

You held back a laugh at the puppy-like glint in Kalim's eyes.

The tsum hopped up onto Kalim's head and you took the opportunity to grab Kalim's cheeks and bring your face close to his.

"You're a whole different kind of adorable."

At that, Kalim beamed, automatically squishing his face into your hands.

That did earn a laugh from you and you couldn't help but kiss his nose.

"You are the absolute cutest, Kalim. No tsum can top that."

[frickingnerd]

“i kept quiet so i could keep you”

pairing: katsuki bakugou x gn!reader

summary: as class 1A suspects you to be the UA traitor, it turns out you have an alibi and none other than katsuki can vouch for you…

“how do we know y/n isn't the traitor?”

the students of class 1A all sat around the table in their lounge, holding a secret meeting about the events that happened after the summer camp. some had begun to suspect that the there was a traitor amongst them – whether it was someone in class 1A or 1B!

most students were each other's alibi's, but there were a few students that nobody knew what they were doing during the days leading up to the villain infiltrating the camp. and you were one of them, a member of class 1B, that had been spotted sneaking around at night during the summer camp.

“it wasn't them!”

katsuki was quick to dismiss the thought of you being the traitor, much to the surprise of the other students. nobody wanted to suspect you, but it almost sounded like katsuki knew for a fact that you couldn't have done it.

“why are you so sure about that?”

tenya seemed skeptical, mostly because katsuki was proclaiming you were innocent, without any proof. tenya didn't have a problem with you, but he found it hard to believe anything katsuki said without solid evidence.

“they were with me”

katsuki stated bluntly, surprising the other students a bit. nobody knew that the two of you were friends, but that would explain where you vanished to during night time. but that also brought up another question…

“…all night?”

izuku was the one to ask what had been on everyone's mind, a blush hushing over the boy's cheeks. surely there was only one thing to do when two people spent the night together…

“yeah, all night!” katsuki huffed and leaned forward, glaring at izuku, before his eyes wandered towards the crowd. “what, does anyone have a problem with that?”

everyone quickly shook their heads or averted their gaze. only tenya opened his mouth, debating if he should say something. but quickly, he began to shake his head as well, deciding that wasn't a topic he needed to lecture katsuki on right now, when there were more important things to discuss…

[pellucid-constellations]

My Everyday

Pairing: College Athlete!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes was aggressive, annoying, and—worst of all—a hockey player. Not your type. At all. But, unfortunately, your roommate. 

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: Minor injury, idiots in love <3, some angst, pining

a/n: My first fic in a century!! Thank you so much for reading if you’re still here. Depending on how this does I hope I’ll have motivation to write more! College athlete Bucky never fails to get me inspired :)

Masterlist

~~

“What’s this punks name again?” 

The breath you let out was long and excruciating. “I am not repeating myself.” 

“C’mon, y/n,” Bucky whined, knocking his head back on the couch. He watched you bustle around the kitchen from his inverted vantage point. “How the hell am I supposed to swoop in and save the day if I don’t even know the kid’s name?” 

“Okay, well, first of all—” the fridge door clicked shut with a swift motion of your hips “—he’s not a ‘kid’. I’m pretty sure he’s a few months older than you.” 

“Semantics.” 

“And second of all,” you stressed, pointing a butter knife in his direction. “There will be no ‘swooping in’. I’m going to have a nice date and you are going to go hang out with your puck rabbits or whatever they're called. There will be no thinking about me and no swooping in my vicinity.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes, kicking up from the couch and rounding the kitchen counter to pick at your sandwich. You knocked his hand away several times, but you both knew it was futile. In the months you’d been living with the hockey player—who was far too big for the small, shoebox of an apartment you leased—you’d learned that food was non-negotiable for Bucky Barnes. 

There were many other things you’d learned about him as well. He sang in the shower, but only when he thought you weren’t home. He had an annoying penchant for using your $30 lotion—again, when he thought you weren’t home. And he loved to throw his massive, smelly gear just about anywhere it would land right when he got home from every practice. 

He didn’t really care if you were home for that last one. 

Bucky was the last person you thought you would be rooming with when you posted that ad last summer. A small, quaint room previously occupied by your now engaged (and traitorous) best friend, you assumed someone like-minded to yourself would have taken you up on your offer. The price point wasn’t egregious and the building was relatively close to campus. 

But weeks ticked by, and you started getting desperate. Your landlord wasn’t a nice lady, something you were positive she took pride in, and she decided that a rent increase was the perfect way to ring in the new school year. You were on the verge of destitution, and as it so happened, the only other person as desperate as you was the starting center for your college’s hockey team. 

You hardly got along. It had taken weeks for your eye to stop twitching every time he tumbled through the front door at three in the morning, and even longer for you not to feel an infuriating aggravation at his random, nighttime smoothies. You supposed he probably felt the same about your cleanliness rules and your incessant reminders about trash days. Because Bucky was in charge of bringing the trash down those long, apartment steps. Not you. 

But you’d be lying if you said things hadn’t gotten easier as of late. Conversation flowed more smoothly, things that made you seethe before were only mildly annoying, and Bucky was being… considerate? You weren’t quite sure what to call the random cups of coffee he brought home on occasion. Or his sudden urge to warm up your car when he had a morning class before yours. 

There was also the case of that party last weekend. A frat party with far too many drunk men and not enough common sense, you had had the urge to leave the second you got there. But Wanda had dragged you along for the sole purpose of driving her home after she got hammered, so you were essentially stuck. 

It was fine at first. Hot and crowded and loud, but fine. You kept a general eye on Wanda and scrolled aimlessly on your phone in the armchair you claimed. And then it wasn’t fine, because a man twice your size was encroaching on your space and unrelenting. 

“What kinda girl comes to a party and doesn’t even wanna talk to anyone?” 

“You want to come up to my room and watch a movie or something?” 

“Hey, I’m talking to you, bitch.” 

You weren’t even aware that Bucky had been at that party. It wasn’t surprising—the line between fraternities and sports was blurred at your college—but the space he took up as he intercepted the man in front of you was.

~~

“There a problem here?” Bucky posed, crossing his arms over his chest, his presence looming above your seated position. His weight shifted to his toes.

The man didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, you. Move.” 

“Wanna fucking tell me what to do again?” 

“Fuck you, man.” 

A harsh shove to Bucky’s chest was all it took for a right hook to echo in the living room of the frat house. There was chaos. Grunts and screams from the drunk people surrounding the unnecessary fight created a cacophony of unpleasant sounds that seemed to get the attention of someone in charge. The man—Brian, you had now learned based on screams—was pulled back from Bucky and getting chewed out by some president or manager of something. 

And Bucky was seething, chest rising and falling laboriously as he wiped at the new bruise forming on his face.

Fights were not uncommon. But this one had been about you. For you.

“Bucky?” you asked when the crowd calmed and Brian was no longer in the room. 

You watched his back release its tight coil. He turned. “Are you okay?” 

The words were almost lost in the noise of the crowd, but he was close enough that they created a tactile vibration across your skin. His pupils were dilated and he looked so disheveled it would have been charming if there wasn’t also a cut forming on his brow. 

“Y/n.” 

It took you a moment to realize that you hadn’t answered him. Your response fell out of you as if you’d been shoved. “I’m—I’m fine.” 

He grunted, but it was more of a puff of air. “The fuck was that guy?” 

“I don’t know,” you replied, realizing by the way you swayed that you had stood up at some point. “He just—” 

“We’re going home.” 

“What? I can’t, I’m here with Wanda. I’m driving her, Bucky, I can’t just leave.” 

He grabbed your wrist, the grip achingly soft compared to the blows he was landing minutes before. “She left with that British guy she’s been on and off with. Asked me to tell you.” 

That explained his random appearance. Your brows pinched as you took in the information, eyes cast down to the angry red marks marring Bucky’s knuckles. He’d been in fights before. So many fights. On the ice. 

This was different. 

“I haven’t been drinking—I can drive myself home. You don’t have to leave,” you shouted over the music now bumping in the room. 

He didn’t respond, not verbally. He pulled you to his front instead, leading you through the impossible crowd until cool night air began melting into your skin. His silence was strange. Bucky’s favorite activity was talking your ear off until you told him to shut up, but right now… nothing. Even his earlier words had been clipped. 

You felt responsible for easing the tension in the air as Bucky continued to guide you to your car. You hadn’t told him where you parked, but he seemed to know the exact location anyways.

“You really don’t have to leave with me,” you mumbled. “It wasn’t a big deal or anything.” 

“It was a big deal.” 

~~

The drive home had been silent. The walk to the door had been as well. Bucky spent a few minutes appraising you in the overhead light of the living room when you got inside, but after that there was nothing. He went to his room and you went to yours. 

There was no discussion about it the morning after, either. Bucky apparently wanted to pretend nothing ever happened, so you respected that. Even now, you ignored the fading cuts on his hands as he shoveled food into his mouth.

Bucky’s next words were muffled by a mouthful of bread. “Well where’s this dude taking you at least?”

“Ice skating.”

The cough and sudden exasperation was very expected out of the man next to you, Bucky’s next words hardly containing syllables. “Huh?” 

“We’re going ice skating,” you reiterated. You picked up your lunch and headed for the living room, ignoring the slightly heaviness in your chest. “It’s winter and ice skating is festive. The rink on campus has decorations.” 

“Without me? Y/n, you’re gonna let some guy who probably doesn’t even know how to skate—” 

“Bucky—” you attempted to interrupt. 

“—drag you around the rink like a rag doll?” he continued, holding his hand up to mute your incoming speech. “I’ve asked you to come by the rink, like, a ton of times. You’ve never shown any interest.” 

You rolled your eyes and shot him a cross look as he picked your feet up from where they rested on the couch and dropped them into his lap. He went on with his rant for a little while longer, knocking his head back against cushions and accusing you of being a bad roommate. You had a few rebuttals of your own, but there was a reason you had never accompanied him to the rink. 

A good reason. 

You didn’t date athletes. 

It was true that simply going to visit Bucky at a practice, or letting him be the one to drag you around the ice like a rag doll, wouldn’t mean you were in a relationship by any means. But it would be an extra step. And if you were being honest with yourself, it would only take a few of those extra steps for the irritation you felt towards Bucky to melt into something else. 

And you didn’t date athletes. 

You did not. 

You didn’t have the time, nor the patience, to put up with the cheating, the anger issues, or the crazy schedules. And there wasn’t a single athlete you’d met at your sport-centered university that was willing to compromise on any of those subjects. Especially the cheating. You’d learned that the hard way after dating a lacrosse player for approximately one month before receiving the dreaded DM from a girl you had never met. 

The man hadn’t even given you the courtesy of pretending he didn’t know what she was talking about. He just admitted to his wrong-doing and shrugged. Shrugged. 

So athletes were not exactly in your good graces when it came to dating. 

“Are you even listening to me?” Bucky cut through your thoughts, patting your shin in impatience. 

You blinked and reoriented yourself, focusing on the hairs that fanned across Bucky’s face. “Of course I am,” you lied. “But my answer is still the same. I’m going on my date and you are not going on my date.” 

He groaned, apparently giving up as he cradled your legs closer to him to lean over and grab the remote from the coffee table. He flipped the channel to ESPN—typical—and you ate your sandwich, silently cursing him. He had a TV in his room. 

“When is it?” he suddenly asked, breaking the silence that had knitted itself into a comfortable blanket over the room. 

“Tonight,” you answered plainly. 

The arms atop your legs tensed. 

~~

The dichotomy of the man sitting beside you was impressive. On one hand, he was so full of himself that he had missed almost all of your conversation starters due to being so transfixed by his reflection in the rink’s glass. He had yet to ask you a single question about yourself and had insisted that the four other girls skating tonight were in love with him. 

On the other hand, he was, quite possibly, the most uninteresting person you had ever met. You were usually very quick to laugh, but every word out of his mouth was almost painful. He wouldn’t stop talking about his ex-girlfriend, gave you one word answers about anything other than baseball, and was honestly really terribly at ice skating. You were no pro either, but you found yourself on your back every time he tried holding your hand.

The tumble five minutes ago had you seeking out the penalty box on the side of the rink. You needed a break, you had told him, hoping he would continue on making a fool of himself and give you a moment alone. But he followed you instead, and was now sitting beside you, talking about baseball.

You supposed that was better than making you fall while talking about baseball.

“I bet we could do that,” he remarked, pointing out onto the ice and catching your attention. A couple who clearly had more experience than you was twirling each other around. “We definitely could. I pick up good speed.” You cringed. “I really don’t think we should try, Sean. My tailbone is already pretty bruised.” 

“Oh, c’mon! I won’t try the throwing part, just the twisty stuff.” 

“We are literally on rental skates. You will kill me,” you deadpanned. You were tired at this point and seriously questioning why you thought ice skating was a good first date idea. 

Well, there actually was an answer for that. But you were not going to think about the hockey player that popped into your head when Sean asked you on a date in the dining hall last week. 

Definitely not. 

“I’m not going to let my date think I’m boring,” Sean groaned, yanking you up from your seat. 

You gave a few tugs and words of resistance but they were ultimately useless. You figured it would be just as useless to tell the guy you already thought he was boring. He probably wouldn’t even hear you. 

On unsteady skates, Sean guided you to a mostly cleared corner of the rink and gripped your forearms. He squinted as he surveyed the area, the corner of his mouth turning up in a way that made your stomach roll. This entire date had been a bad idea.

“Maybe we should just watch them do it,” you tried, words wavering. 

“No!” he grinned. “No, we got this. It’s gonna look so cool.” 

And then you were spinning. You’d never been spun against your will before, but it sucked. Your skates kept getting stuck in the divots in the ice and the grip on your forearms was close to bruising. You were starting to get dizzy and Sean showed no signs of caring. God, he really was dragging you around the rink like a rag doll. Bucky was going to get a kick out of this.

“Okay, ready?” Sean called, an unwarranted jubilation in his tone. 

“What?” you yelled. 

He didn’t answer you. Instead, he let go, and you went flying in another direction without a clear path. It only lasted a moment, but the sound of your head smacking onto the ice signified the end of that movement. You landed on your arm next, and then your back. Again. 

This time felt different though. Your head was spinning and there were muted pinpricks trailing up to your wrist. The ache there was dulled compared to the biting iciness in your back, but as soon as you tried leaning on it to get up, it became sharp.

“Oh shit!” came Sean’s laughter-filled gasp. “My bad. I really didn’t mean to let go.” 

You blinked a few times to clear the blurriness from your vision but it proved unhelpful. “I think… I think my arm’s broken.” 

“Wait, seriously?” he asked, wobbling down to a seat beside you. 

“Yeah, it’s—”

“Everything okay over here?” a voice interrupted. You tried blinking again to take in the man that towered over the two of you, but the lights overhead washed him out. 

You recognized him…maybe? You felt like you were going to throw up. 

Sean answered for you. “Yeah, man, we’re fine. She just fell.” 

“Y/n, are you okay?” the man asked, ignoring your date completely.

“Do I know you?” you slurred.

You thought you heard a curse. “What made you think throwing her around was a good idea?” 

“Dude, it wasn’t even that fast. Or my fault. She just couldn’t keep her feet under her.” 

“Well, dude, maybe you should go home.” 

Sean scoffed. “Right, and who’s going to take this one home?” 

Your head was starting to hurt with all of the back and forth. The man that just joined, the taller one, kneeled down beside you. His blonde hair cast a harsh glare that had you squinting again. 

“You want me to call Bucky?” he asked.

Bucky? How would he know Bucky? Blonde hair began morphing into a man in your memory, and you reached for the material of his shirt, looping it between your fingers.

“Steve Rogers?” you mumbled. 

The man, now identified as Steve, sighed. “I’m calling him. Go home, Sean. Her roommate is coming to get her.” 

There was more discussion, something about Steve having the authority to kick him out and Sean not understanding what all of the fuss was about. Steve warned him about something and Sean scoffed as if the situation was beneath him. And then he left. 

Steve was then in your line of sight again, brows pinched together and a bright orange vest covering his shoulders. His hands hovered in front of you as if you’d break if he touched you and you almost found it funny. Steve was a huge guy with a lot of authority on Bucky’s team, but right now he looked like a scared animal. 

“Why are you dressed like a construction worker?” you asked. 

A small smile graced his face. “I’m working at the rink today. Everyone on the team has to take shifts during the holidays.” 

“Hmm,” you hummed. “I think my arm is broken.” 

“I know. I’m pretty sure you have a concussion too. Let’s get you off the ice, yeah?” 

You tried to nod, but that hurt too much so you let Steve assist you in shakily standing up. He guided you to the seats by the rental skate counter with a soft but sure hand on your back, asking some guy named Antonio for an ice pack. Everything around you felt like a fever dream. 

Gentle touches rolled the sleeve of your sweater back to reveal a swollen wrist that Steve immediately covered with an ice pack. 

He cursed again. “Well he’s gonna be pissed.” 

“Who?” Your head swayed with the question. 

Steve looked up to meet your gaze, lips parting to answer, when he was replaced by a different face. Your brain was having trouble keeping up with everything, obviously, because Bucky was in front of you now. He was kneeling between your legs with his hands on your face and you had no idea where Steve went. 

“What the fuck?” you blurted out. 

“Hey, y/n.” Bucky spoke your name low and soothing, his fingers moving to your eyes where he pried them open one at a time and looked for something you couldn’t see. His next words were directed over his shoulder. “Maybe a concussion. Tell me what happened again?” 

“Sean Marcus was being an ass. Flung her all over the place,” Steve replied. 

“Why are you here?” you interjected, trying to focus on one thing at a time. “I told you not to come on my date.” 

Bucky moved his assessment to your arm next, shifting the ice pack. “Never really agreed to those terms.” 

He turned back to Steve after that, having another discussion that you barely understood. Bucky absentmindedly fiddled with the material of your jeans as he spoke, and you put all of your energy into not face planting on the ground. This past week had truly been a series of terrible events with terrible men. 

After some amount of time elapsed, you were walking to the parking lot with a jacket thrown over your shoulders and Bucky continuously jutting a hand out each time you took a step. He was very well versed in concussions, apparently. 

“Okay, in you go, killer,” Bucky prompted, opening the passenger door. 

You eyed the front seat, scrunching your face up. “My arm hurts.” 

The man in front of you seemed to soften, his shoulders dropping on a long exhale. “I know, sweetheart. But we gotta go to the hospital to fix that. I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“I should just call Wanda. Or Nat. You don’t have to be the one to take me.” 

“I can take you just fine.”

“Why do you want to you? Aren’t you busy?” 

Another long sigh, this one accompanied by hands on your shoulders, fingers at the base of your neck. “Get in the car.”

His eyes were boring into yours, searching for something, or maybe already finding it there. You still had your arm cradled to your chest and you titled your head to the side as you observed him. There was something else to his gaze that you couldn’t quite describe. It reminded you of his expression after he came home from a rough game. Angry. Discontent. 

“You’re being weird,” you commented, breaking the silence you had created. 

“You broke your arm and smacked your head on the ice,” he simply replied, as if the statement was an explanation. 

“Yeah, but—” 

“And then that douchebag did nothing about it,” Bucky interrupted. “So please, y/n, get in the car so I can help you before I find him and kick his ass. Because you know I’m not above fighting people.” 

You blinked, and then slid into the front seat. 

The drive was quiet. You’d never been in Bucky’s car before, but the spinning in your head didn’t give you much space to inspect it too closely. You caught hockey gear in the back, a keycard to the rink dangling off the rearview mirror, and a small collection of hair ties in one of the cupholders. One caught your attention.

“Hey, this one’s mine.” You picked up the purple band and rolled it between your fingers. “Thief.” 

Bucky snatched it back. “Mine now.” 

He made a sharp turn that had you sucking air between your teeth and repositioning your arm. Bucky sent you a quick, achingly apologetic look. 

“Sorry, almost there.” A long beat of silence and then a mumbled, “I should keep your hair tie. You won’t be able to do your hair alone with a broken arm anyway.” 

~~

Your wrist was fractured, not broken. You also only had a minor concussion. This was all great news to you, especially since they told you after administering a hefty amount pain reliever. To Bucky, this was apparently terrible, life-altering news. 

After practically body slamming into the front door of your apartment, he chucked his wallet and keys down on the kitchen counter and began grumbling to himself as he opened and closed kitchen cabinets. You watched from a distance, half amused, half concerned for the rusting hinges. He finally found what he was looking for—a cup—and continued to mutter to himself as he filled it with gatorade. 

“Are you… okay?” you asked tentatively. 

Bucky ripped the freezer open and manhandled three to four ice cubes. “I’m fine. You are not.” 

“I’m okay now,” you assured. Bucky stalked over to you anyways, pressing the sports drink into your hand that was not wrapped in a cast.

You looked down at the glass and sent him a baffled look. He nodded at it and raised his brows, a silent demand for you to drink. 

“Okay. And why do I need to drink gatorade?” Your words were slow. 

“You were just on the ice and haven’t had any water for at least three hours.” 

“Bucky,” you began. “I was ice skating recreationally for about thirty minutes. I don’t need to replenish my electrolytes.” 

“Will you just… will you just drink the damn drink?” he groaned, gesturing to it with a firm hand. “Jesus, I can’t take care of you when you go and get yourself hurt by idiots. So just let me do what I know I can do, alright?” 

“You don’t have to take care of me.” You were beginning to raise your voice, matching some of the frustration in the room. 

Bucky threw his hands in the air, tugging at his roots on the way down. He moved further into the kitchen and leaned against the counter with stiff, rod-like arms propping him up. And then he sighed, long and profound as if this was the hardest conversation he’d had all year. His head hung heavy between stiff shoulders and you felt the environment shift. 

You almost wanted to intervene on his thoughts again, to make some comment about the dishes in the dishwasher or pretend you were going to go take a nap. But he had something to say, something you needed to hear, and so you stayed. You blinked and clenched your fist in the uncomfortable silence, but you stayed. 

“Y/n, I want to take care of you,” Bucky breathed out, words still directed toward the floor, almost too low to make out. “I’ve been tryna get you to see that for weeks now, but you’ve either got no clue or you want absolutely nothing to do with me.” 

You stopped blinking, stopped fidgeting, stopped breathing altogether. You watched as Bucky drummed his fingers against the counter and still refused to look up. You swallowed hard because you weren’t clueless, but also because you wanted everything to do with Bucky Barnes. 

And nothing at the same time. 

“Bucky…” you began, with a tone of surprise you weren’t sure was believable.

“Don’t do it yet,” he stopped you. “Don’t…don’t tell me no yet. I’m still pissed as hell that you got hurt and you shouldn’t be alone with a concussion. I don’t need you avoiding me when you can’t even drive a car.” 

“You’re being presumptuous.” 

He snapped his head up, his eyes rushing back and forth between your own. The drumming on the counter ceased, instead replaced by balled up fists turning white under days old cuts and fading bruises. He didn’t say anything. You searched the empty air for a reply. 

“I wouldn’t avoid you. I don’t know if I could avoid you—not anymore. You’re sort of a big part of my life now.” A good start, you thought. Not a real answer, but not a rejection. 

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek and eyed the drink still perspiring in your hand. You set it down at his observance, moving closer to his slumped posture in the kitchen. 

But Bucky stood up straight at your movement, becoming guarded, stiff. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Bad timing, just forget it. You should try and get some sleep.” 

“I don’t want to forget it,” you softly spoke, shaking your head.

He clenched his jaw. “And I don’t want to hear that you don’t feel the same way about me that I feel about you. Not right now. I feel like I’m going insane, watching you go out on dates and having my best friend tell me that my girl—that’s not really my girl—is all banged up on the ice because of some asshole.” 

You opened your mouth to speak, but Bucky kept going, now pacing in the kitchen. “I mean, y/n, you’re my everyday. I wake up and you’re making coffee. You text me in class to ask what I need at the grocery store and then I call you after practice to make sure you got back to the apartment. I think about you so god damn much and I can’t believe there was a time in my life that I didn’t get to end my day in a home that has you. And you’re just my roommate. You want nothing to do with athletes, I get it—” he added, catching your eye in the middle of his rant, “—but, shit, I haven’t even looked at another girl since… well it doesn’t even matter.”

“Tell me,” you whispered. There were a million other things you could’ve said, a million explanations that would have made sense. But the two soft words stopped Bucky from tracking holes in the ground. They shoved him from his shallow breaths and made him look at you. 

And, god, did he look at you. You must have been worse for wear. A hospital visit mixed with one too many tumbles onto solid ice probably had your hair in disarray and your face pressed with exhaustion, but his gaze was revering. Candy-coated red with soft blues melting below brows that fluxed with the movement of his lips; Bucky was beautiful, and he was looking at you as if you matched.

His tone confirmed as much, light and saccharin as he said, “That dumb movie a few weeks ago, the one about the superheroes. Your friends wouldn’t watch it with you so you made me. You were so excited even though it was awful and you were out like a light within the first hour. You rolled over onto me and I wasn’t gonna wake you up so I sorta just held you.” 

He paused, trailing his eyes up to the light fixtures. “At the risk of sounding pathetic, it felt like I had you, you know? Like we were going through all our usual motions, but after I annoyed the hell out of you and you told me off, you were mine. I can’t… I can’t really picture that with another girl.” 

There were very few times you had considered yourself speechless. But with Bucky Barnes standing in front of you, red-faced and vulnerable and still wearing the stupid hospital nametag they made him put on in the waiting room, you had no words. There was none of the arrogance you usually associated with him, no short-temper or pestering taunts. It was just Bucky, and he was pouring his heart onto the kitchen floor. For you. 

“You get why you can’t tell me no just yet?” he asked, trying to get something out of you. Anything. “You can break my heart, but let me just make sure you’re okay first. And I can’t beat the shit out of Sean if we aren’t on speaking terms.” 

The laugh that left you was one of disbelief, but the breathiness and accompanying tears fit the heaviness of the room. Your glossy eyes met Bucky’s and something flashed on his face, but it was soon out of your line of sight because you were kissing him. You were kissing him hard and your bodies were too close for the cast between you but it didn’t matter. 

He didn’t respond at first, hand hovering at your back. But then he did and the cold linoleum of the kitchen floor was gone from your bare feet. He sat you on the counter, so gently, as if you were glass, and you let your hand brush against the cracks and divots of your home. The one that Bucky came back to every night to see you. 

The one that had housed so many nights of confusion and longing and denial.

The one that had Bucky kissing the life out of you on the kitchen counter. 

He pulled away first, forehead pressed to yours. “Didn’t think I’d ever get to do that.” 

“You can do it again.” 

“Oh, I will, baby.” 

Laughter met in the air between you—sweet, short, intertwined. There was so much you wanted to tell him, so many instances like the one he shared before where you were left questioning boundaries and feelings and lines. But, you figured, there would be so many opportunities to tell him. So much time together. 

“I texted Wanda that night,” you shared, interrupting the kisses he was pressing to your cheek. “After I woke up and you had taken me back to my room.” 

He smiled against your skin. “What’d you say?” 

“I told her I was an idiot—that I was falling for the enemy.” 

Bucky ran a soft hand along the back of your head, a smirk lighting up his face. He was slotted between your legs and kept his other hand firmly pressed onto the kitchen counter, caging you in, making sure your arm didn’t hit the cabinets. 

“And is that true?” 

“I don’t know,” you hummed, connecting your foreheads once again, wanting to stay impossibly close. “Try to cure my broken bone with gatorade again and we’ll see.”

[emmyrosee]

It’s not common to see Atsumu fuming.

Genuine anger, not the petty shit he throws at you when he decides he wants to be an obnoxious turd to yourself or his brother.

You can tell the difference, too, because a petulant pout and attitude is plastered on that pretty face of his, but when he’s genuinely mad, there’s no attitude; it’s just raw emotion and lips pulled in a straight line, his chest giving irregular, short breaths because he can’t breathe. It’s almost scary, but it happens so little that you’ve learned to manage it when it does happen.

This is one of those rare occasions you have no clue which he’s feeling.

The car door outside slams shut, sending a nervous chill up your spine, but it’s immediately squashed when you hear Hisako’s innocent laughter. You smile and turn towards the now opening door, and you give atsumu a fake, sympathetic look when his thick brows are furrowed in frustration. On his leg, Hisako’s tiny arms are wrapped around him, her legs locked around his ankle and her smile that’s missing a tooth is beaming up at him.

“You,” he scolds, looking down at his menace of a six year old. “Go upstairs. And don’t come out until you’re seventy-eight.”

“Can I hug mommy first?”

“If you must,” he growls. With that, Hisako quickly bounds over to you and reaches her arms up for a hug, and while you give her one, you watch as Atsumu paces the floor, cards his hair, chews on his cuticles, anything to make him calm down.

“Daddy’s mad,” she whispers in your ear.

You offer her a snort, “I know.” With a kiss to her head you plant her back to her feet and nudge her to go into her room, waiting until to door closes before you turn back to your husband.

“Atsumu-“

“I’m not ready for this,” he growls. “The little traitor, I can’t believe she’d do this to me- my own flesh and blood.”

“Don’t word it like that, you make it sound like she committed arson or something.”

He softens and pouts like a dog; clearly, whatever it is, it’s taking a toll, and you sigh before you walk over and plant a kiss to his forehead. “Whatever it was, I know it wasn’t on purpose; what happened?”

“She’s just not ready, okay, she just doesn’t know-“

“Sweetheart, you need to let me in here-“

“He was holding her hand!” He whines, scrubbing his face with his hands. “They-They-They were holding hands! I thought I had a few more years to prepare for this shit! Wanted to wait before I put the fear back into these damn boys! I can’t fight a six year old!”

You pause. You retract your hand and give him an absolute smirk.

“You’re kidding me?”

“Sure ain’t!” He barks, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s so mad his forehead vein makes itself known with a sheen of sweat. “Tomorrow, I’m going to that damned school, and I’m moving her classes!”

“Honey,” you say sweetly, gently grabbing his arm to ground him. “It’s okay; I’m the one who told her to be nice to this boy.”

Instantly, his head whips in betrayal. His eyes are blown wide, muscles tense and despite how angry he looks, he can’t find the words to convey it.

“YOU WHAT?”

You shake your head, “she asked me why she feels butterflies in her tummy when she sees him.” To try and soothe him, you hook your head over his shoulder and bat your eyes innocently, “and I told her that it’s the same feeling I get when I see you-“

“Don’t try to be sweet, I’m mad at you,” he snarls, but there’s a softness in his eye that makes you think he’s not as serious as he thinks he comes across. A massive hand cards through his hair and he looks up to the sky as if to ask for patience. “I can’t believe this. My two babies, the loves of my life, betraying me in such juvenile ways.”

“Atsumu, spell juvenile,” you challenge.

“Spell ‘no’,” he grumbles. You sigh and gently grab his arm to pull him to the couch, and for a few seconds he puts up a small fight, but does end up giving into you in the end.

“Sweetie, listen to me,” you soothe. “Hisako is six. She’s going to start having little crushes soon enough-“

“Fuck, stop reminding me,” he whines.

You shake your head and rub a soothing hand on his back. “And all we can do is let her express those feelings in healthy ways; it’s what we’ve always done.”

“What if he hurts her?”

“He’s six.”

“What if he breaks her heart?”

“I’m sure she’ll cope.”

“What if he-“

“Atsumu.” Your hands squish his cheeks. “Calm down; she’s going to be okay.” You smile and kiss his pouted lips, “you remember what it was like having a crush at school-“

“Excuse you,” he grumbles from his squished cheeks, shaking his head from your grip. “I’ve only ever been in love with you.”

“You’ve told me about your relationship with Rintaro, trust me, that was a crush.”

“Was not!”

“Was too.”

“Was not!”

“It absolutely was.” You smile warmly, “and that’s fine. But now, you need to let her experience the same thing. She’s a big girl. Besides,” you nudge your nose with his, “you’ll always be her favorite man.”

“That’s actually Osamu, but I appreciate it.” Your words do seem to calm him down however, and he wraps a big arm around you to settle into the couch, “I just love her, baby… just want her to be safe.”

“I know; and she will be.”

The silence you get comfortable in gets interrupted by the door to your home getting flung open, and while you jump in the air in shock, next to you, Atsumu chuckles.

“Speaking of the devil.”

“What did you-“

Before you can say anything, Miya Osamu suddenly stands in the middle of your living room, the hat on his head tampered with and his apron turn on his hip, his head lined with sweat as if he ran here. Your jaw slacks in surprise, “Osamu, you did not leave work to come here-“

“WHAT STUPID LITTLE SNOT WAS HOLDING HER HAND?”